


Failure Is Not An Option

by Nadja_Lee



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Cutting, Emotional Baggage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecurity, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moving On, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-02
Updated: 2004-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: Blair finds out some painful truths about Jim's childhood.[Printed in Bonded 3 in summer 2004 and is online here for the first time]
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Kudos: 36





	Failure Is Not An Option

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the editors, betas and staff at the zine for improving the story.

# Failure Is Not An Option

Blair was running late. Checking his watch, he saw he was actually almost two hours late. He had told Jim he would be home at seven but the faculty meeting he had attended at Rainier University had taken up more time than he had planned. On top of that, every single traffic light seemed to have ganged up on him to turn red just when he was approaching them. He knew how much of a control freak his friend and lover was; despite Blair’s call to him that he was late, Jim would probably be mildly worried and then annoyed that his dinner would have to be postponed.

Jim and he had been living together at the loft for six years now, the last two with them being lovers. They had recently decided to look for a house together now that Blair had gotten his PhD, this time using his data on the police, and was working as a professor at the University. He still helped Jim with cases and worked with him whenever he could; but after some serious consideration, he had decided not to accept Simon’s generous offer to become a detective. He hadn’t regretted the decision for he spent almost as much time as before with his friends at Major Crime and yet still maintained his University work that was his passion. 

“Sorry about the time, man. Professor Wilson began talking about the budget for next semester and you know how money always…” Blair began to explain as soon as he entered the loft, expecting to find Jim in the kitchen. He fell silent when he saw Jim wasn’t there. “Jim?” he questioned as he closed and locked the door behind him and took off his backpack, putting it down on the floor next to the door. Maybe Jim had gone out? Or was mad at him? No, that wasn’t like Jim. He had sounded…tired when Blair had called to say he would be late, but not angry. In fact, Jim had sounded very controlled and hadn’t seemed to mind at all which in hindsight should have alerted him that something was wrong since Jim liked his life organized and on schedule…perhaps a leftover from Jim’s many years in the army. As Blair moved further into the loft, he saw Jim sitting on the sofa, a blank look on his face…a look Blair knew well.

“Jim, are you zoned? “ He didn’t expect an answer, but the situation just took him by surprise. Jim hadn’t zoned for many months now and even then it was only under extreme circumstances. What could he possible have zoned on? The TV and radio were both silent, there was no food cooking… Strange. Worried, Blair went to the sofa and a shocked gasp was torn from his lips. Looking in from the door, Jim’s left arm had been hidden from view. Now, he saw that Jim had pulled up his shirtsleeve and a fairly large kitchen knife had frozen midway as it cut a deep gash into his flesh. Blair saw several new bleeding cuts surrounding the one that Jim had frozen upon, zoning on the painful touch of blade cutting skin. With some relief, he saw that none of the cuts were dangerously deep and several of them already had dried blood scabbing around them, betraying the fact that Jim must have started cutting a good time before Blair arrived.

“Oh, shit,” Blair mumbled softly, not sure what to do. Jim must have zoned on his sense of touch, been focused on feeling the most pain from the cut… Oh, man. Just the thought made him shiver. Fighting to stay calm, he gently touched Jim’s right shoulder and sat on the sofa beside him, fighting to keep his voice warm and soft, soothing. “It’s okay, Jim. Come on back. Listen to my voice. Follow it back.”

Jim’s eyes fluttered and he turned towards Blair’s voice. His face showed surprise and then pain as he removed the knife from the wound he had been about to finish cutting.

“Chief? I thought you were late.” His voice was so normal it made Blair want to scream. Jim planted a loving kiss on his mouth that Blair was too upset to respond properly to. With a disinterested look at the bloodied knife, Jim went to the kitchen, Blair following just behind him. He cast a questioning look at Blair when the younger man remained silent.

With sick fascination, Blair watched Jim wash off his own blood from the sharp blade as if it was something he did every day. “I was… am,” Blair corrected himself, fighting to find his voice again when he realized Jim still expected a reply to his question. Blair had minored in psychology; he could handle this. He just had to stay calm. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this.

Jim wiped off the knife on a towel and put it back in its place, making Blair wince as he recalled he had cut meat with that knife last night when he had been preparing dinner. Jim checked his watch and looked surprised to see it was almost nine. “Yeah. Must have lost track of time.” He turned to face Blair. “I brought some chicken, which shouldn’t take long to make. You want that or should we order out?”

Blair took a deep breath, trying hard not to yell or scream, trying very hard not to keep his eyes focused on Jim’s injured arm, his eyes wanting to follow a trail of blood from the latest cut as it slowly moved down Jim’s arm. “Jim,” he began carefully, softly, not sure what to make of his lover’s detachment, “try and look at your arm.”

“Hmm?” Jim looked at his injured left arm and found it covered with at least twenty deep cuts, dried blood having frozen in place around the edges of all but the latest of them. “Oh, no big deal.”

His voice sounded so casual that Blair felt like hitting something; and, for Blair, that was saying a lot. Jim washed his arm under the sink; and, with relief, Blair saw that the cuts didn’t look as sinister when all the dried blood was washed away. However, the lack of dried blood also showed off the angry red cuts in all their clarity. Most of them weren’t deep enough to demand treatment of any kind, but deep enough to leave a small scar and, with Jim’s sentinel feeling, to hurt like hell. Which reminded Blair…

“Have you dialed your sense of touch down?”

“Did so as soon as you came back,” Jim replied casually as he wiped his arm with the same towel he had used on the knife, betraying that he had indeed had his sense of touch dialed up to feel as much pain as possible while he used the knife on his skin. Jim turned back to Blair and smiled warmly as he planted a soft kiss on his thoughtful and shaken lover’s forehead. “So…chicken or take out?”

Jim’s play at normality after what he had just seen was making Blair climb the walls; and he ran a hand through his long hair, not sure if he was more frustrated with Jim’s lack of reaction to what he had just seen or his own shaken reaction to it. Jim had always been his protector, always been strong. There had been times when the older man had needed help with his senses; but in general, Jim had acted like he could handle any pressure, any situation, and Blair had believed it. Now he wondered if that had been a painful mistake on his part, though none could claim Jim hadn’t done his best to get Blair to believe exactly what he had. “Jim, don’t you think…” he began, but a look from Jim’s blue eyes, saying so much yet so little, made him freeze. It held the deepest look of pain and a strong feeling of loss, deeper than anything Blair had ever seen. It almost had him gasping for air with its intensity as he could have sworn he almost felt Jim’s mental aguish. Then, as he looked back into Jim’s eyes, the moment was gone and his lover’s eyes were again two poles of pale blue that covered more than they showed. “Let’s just order something and then we can _talk_ later.” Blair amplified the word ‘talk’ but Jim didn’t seem to notice.

“Whatever you say, love,” Jim said as he planted a butterfly kiss to Blair's temple and then went to the phone. “How about Chinese?”

”Ah…sure,” Blair agreed, a bit taken aback with the whole situation. His mind was already beginning to analyze everything Jim did and had done to try and form a theory about what he had just witnessed. He had a feeling Jim was being so accommodating because he wished Blair to forget what he had seen. Not that Jim seemed ashamed by what he had done, for his shirtsleeve was still rolled up; but it seemed clear to Blair that the older man didn’t wish to debate it further…as if it was normal that Jim should hurt himself. Well, there was no chance that Blair would ever forget this. In fact, he was sure his nightmares for many nights to come would be about Jim hurting himself…maybe even taking it a bit too far.

Some time later, they had gotten through the dinner, with Jim suspiciously overcome with small talk, forcing responses from Blair, who was still trying to figure out what to think about the whole situation.

“So…you want to talk about it?” Blair tried softly while he lay in Jim’s warm embrace on the sofa, Jim absentmindedly stroking his soft curls. The mood was nice, he felt safe inside Jim’s arms and they were both full and relaxed. It seemed like the best time to go into this that he could get.

“About what, Chief?” Jim sounded genuinely puzzled and Blair turned around in Jim's embrace so he could see his face. He knew Jim didn’t like to talk about his past. Even after he had seen his brother and father again, he still only spoke regularly with Steven. There was a cold distance between Jim’s father and himself, which had never been crossed.

“About what you were doing when I came in,” Blair said seriously, nodded toward Jim’s injured left arm that lay around him, holding him close.

“That was nothing,” Jim brushed it off as he kissed the top of Blair's head. “Let’s talk about something more fun.” There was a seductive note to his words as his lips began to nip at Blair’s earlobe. “Something much more fun,” he repeated as he began to kiss every part of Blair he could reach and tried to switch them so he would be on top.

“Jim, please,” Blair pushed gently but firmly against Jim's chest, preventing him from changing places. He kept a warm tone, and he couldn’t deny that Jim’s kisses and words had excited him, but he also knew why Jim had done it – to prevent Blair from asking any more questions. Jim sighed and just held Blair closer.

“Let’s just watch some TV then.” Again, he planted a soft kiss on Blair’s temple as he spoke. “It’s been a long day.”

”About that…” Blair watched Jim’s face carefully, supporting his weight gently against Jim’s broad chest, preventing Jim from reaching the remote, which he was eyeing longingly on the table. “What did happen today?”

“We closed the Muller case.” Jim’s voice was low as he played with a soft curl of Blair’s hair, feeling it between his fingers. Blair recalled the case. A young woman had been kidnapped two days earlier, making it a race against time to find her. His face showed his sympathy as he stroked Jim’s cheek, knowing from what had just transpired that the case hadn’t ended the way they had all hoped it would.

“It was bad,” Blair’s remark wasn’t really a question, but Jim nodded absentmindedly anyway.

“Let’s forget it,” Jim again tried to brush it off. He smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes as his lips found Blair’s. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” he mumbled against Blair's lips.

“I love you, too.” Blair embraced Jim tightly before he drew back; somehow knowing his lover needed his reassurance. But he still couldn’t let this go. “Jim… Did the woman die?” he played a hunch.

“It was my fault,” Jim admitted, his voice soft but filled with anger and self-reproach.

“Easy there, big guy,” Blair tried to soothe, putting a calming hand on Jim’s uninjured arm. “I’m sure –”

”You weren’t there so how would you know?!” Jim's voice rose in anger and he fought to sit up, making Blair pull back until they were sitting side by side. Jim ran a hand over his forehead. “I saw her… he killed her just as I entered,” his voice was a soft whisper, making Blair have to fight to hear his words.

”It wasn’t your fault,” Blair insisted, putting a loose but calming hand on Jim’s back. Jim shook the touch off him.

“It was my fault. You didn’t see it,” Jim insisted, rising and starting to pace like a restless panther in a cage.

“I know you,” Blair said softly, kindly. “And I know you always do everything to the best of your abilities. Had there been a way to save the woman, you would have done it.”

Jim laughed, a short, humorless, and chilling sound. “You really think so, Chief?” He turned around and faced Blair, his face shadowed by memories he didn’t want to remember or feel. “If you only knew…”

”Knew what?” Blair’s voice rose in frustration as his control slipped despite his better judgment as Jim again showed his reluctance to talk up front about his true feelings.

“You call me your Blessed Protector,” Jim began, his voice hard and controlled, which was more alarming than if he had been yelling.

“And you are!” Blair insisted, but Jim didn’t seem to be listening.

“You know I was in the army…what exactly did you think I was doing on all those Covert Ops missions?” Jim’s voice held a dark and angry note; but underneath it all, Blair detected a desperation he couldn’t quite place. “Playing in the wild?” The last was added with a hard sarcasm that Blair knew Jim often used when he was trying to protect himself.

“I…I never really thought about it,” Blair admitted, his voice even and steady as he too rose from the sofa. Now that he did think about it, he wondered why he had chosen to be so blind before. Covert Ops missions were exactly that, covert, for a reason, and that reason often meant some dark sinister secrets the government didn’t want anyone to know about. All that would be in Jim’s mind, in his memories… Blair felt a wave of sympathy for his silent partner who tried so hard to always be strong. He fought the urge to go and embrace his lover, feeling Jim might need the space to continue what he was saying. Blair wasn’t quite sure what this confession had to do with Jim’s feeling of guilt earlier; but if Jim needed to talk about this instead, then it was fine with him. Besides, he had a feeling Jim’s ability to always blame himself for everything might be connected to his time in the army, so he kept silent and waited for Jim to continue.

“Of course not,” Jim said harshly, sounding angrier with himself than Blair. “I try not to think about it as well… Mostly I succeed.” He smiled at Blair, but it was a hollow smile. “Master of repression and all that.”

”But sometimes those memories come back?” Blair guessed softly, moving closer to where Jim stood. Jim nodded before he turned his back on Blair, facing the window and the dark night outside, which Blair knew would not be dark enough to hide the view from his sentinel sight.

“I always wondered…” Jim's voice was soft and seemed to come from far away, “how would you feel – you who hate any kind of violence – if you knew what I have done? All the people I have killed in the name of duty? All the things I’ve done…or let happen without doing anything.” Jim’s hands formed fists at his sides and his voice died away with a note of self-hate that made Blair feel cold to his very bones.

“Oh, love…” Blair didn’t know what to say, his voice tight with emotions as he went and embraced Jim from behind. Jim stiffened at the touch; but when Blair laid his head against his shoulder, Jim relaxed and let a hand hold Blair close against his back, enjoying his nearness and warmth.

“I’ve got you,” Jim mumbled softly and Blair wasn’t sure which one of them he was trying to reassure. Blair drew back a little and tugged on Jim’s right arm, making him turn around to face him. Jim’s eyes met and held his, but they seemed dead.

“Did the case today make you remember?” Blair wasn’t about to let what he had seen pass, even though he knew this trip down memory lane was painful for Jim.

“A little,” Jim admitted.

“But it wasn’t all, was it?” Had this been any other time, about someone else than himself, Jim would have smiled fondly and called this Blair’s thoughtful phase where he was just about to put all the pieces of a greater puzzle together.

“Let’s just forget it, okay?” There was an almost pleading edge to Jim’s voice as he embraced his Guide, burrowing himself in the essense of Blair, feeling and sensing him as only he could.

“I would, but I don’t think you can forget,” Blair mumbled softly as he held Jim close. With the insight that Jim had come to both love and fear, Blair said softly, “I have a feeling there’s more to this than bad memories from your Covert Ops days. I think it has to do with your childhood and why you have repressed large parts of it.”

“Damn it, Chief!” Jim exploded and pulled back. “Do you have to psychoanalyze everything? Can’t you just let it go?”

Blair’s intense blue eyes held Jim's gaze, his voice soft as he let Jim pull away from him. “Can you?”

“Damn,” Jim swore again, his voice soft now, and his hands shook a bit before he forced them under control. Control… It was all just a matter of control. Determined, he again turned his back on Blair, trying to regain his control by watching out over the city from the window.  
  


”Failure and control,” Blair mumbled softly, suddenly feeling like he was getting close to the truth. Jim had told him how his dad had expected perfection from his sons; how he had made them compete against each other for his affection. Though he hadn’t said so, Blair had a feeling that Jim had always felt that his father favored his brother more than him. Another thought came to Blair. If it was such a big deal to win…there would be good reason to think it was just as big a deal to lose. Blair had briefly met Jim’s dad and William Ellison made an impressive impression. He could only imagine the kind of impression the man could leave on a young child. Thinking about it, Blair remembered that he had discovered a lot of small scars all over Jim’s body, ones that only a lover would see. He had dismissed them as accidents or as scars received during Jim’s time in the army or as a cop. What if it wasn’t so? What if some of them had been self inflected or…put there by Jim's father? Blair wasn’t sure which thought scared him the most.

“He knew I had my abilities,” Jim’s softly spoken words seemed like a loud scream in the stillness of the room and broke Blair’s dark trail of thought. Jim continued in the same monotone, a soft but far away tone of voice. “He knew it would hurt more on my skin…” Jim turned back to face Blair, a haunted look in his eyes that stabbed Blair in the heart like a knife. “Do you know how many fibers there are in a leather belt? I know. I’ve felt every one.”

  
Blair was shocked into silence. Having known of Jim’s sensitive sense of touch, his father would have known that the beating he gave his son wouldn’t have had to be brutal enough to leave large scars for Jim to have felt as if it did. The terror of what he had heard made Blair freeze in his tracks, but not for long. In one quick step, he was at Jim’s side and guided him to sit on the sofa, holding him tight. Jim followed him meekly as if his thoughts and mind were far away.

“It was never your fault,” he whispered against Jim’s neck, not sure what else to say, knowing he could not undo what had happened no matter how much he wanted to.

“It was only when I failed… Failure was not an option.” Jim’s words were flat, lifeless, stating a fact. The way he recited the words made Blair sure Jim had heard them spoken to him a lot of times.

“You cut yourself as punishment for every failure you make because you are used to being punished for mistakes,” Blair guessed, his voice hoarse as he fought tears. His own childhood hadn’t been wonderful, but at least Naomi had never hit him. He had felt from Jim that his home hadn’t been a happy one, but the image Jim was painting for him now, even with so few words, was breaking his heart and making him wish he could protect his lover forever; making him wish he had been able to protect him back then.

“He wasn’t always home…” Jim pulled Blair close to him and stroked his hair as he spoke softly, but with a lack of emotion that spoke of the control Jim was so famous for. Only this time, it made a tear escape Blair’s eyes as it became clear to him where Jim’s control came from and why. Most of all, he let the tear fall because he knew Jim would never cry for himself… not anymore.

“You began cutting yourself while you still lived at home,” Blair guessed, knowing he had to find his answers in everything Jim did not say. Jim had always been a very private person; but until now, Blair hadn’t known just how much Jim had been keeping inside himself. Blair wasn’t sure this was all there was to it either. The few details he knew now could very well be just the tip of the iceberg.

“Let’s not go there. Not now. Not tonight,” Jim tipped Blair’s face up so he could kiss his lips, wiping away Blair’s tears with a hand. Jim’s eyes filled with love, and an awed expression was on his face as he understood these tears were for him. No one had ever cried for him before; it made him love Blair even more, if that was even possible.

Jim’s choice of words made Blair hopeful that one day he would tell him more.

“We can take it slow,” Blair agreed as they pulled apart and Jim rose, holding out his hand to Blair and helped him to his feet. “We can make it through this…together,” Blair promised and embraced Jim to give him a loving kiss before he pulled back. “I love you,” he said sincerely as he drew back and Jim smiled the first real smile all night.

“I know,” he whispered softly. It was a miracle he had yet to figure out and he doubted he ever would. “I love you, too.”

  
With that, Jim began to move up the stairs to their shared bedroom, holding Blair’s hand tight in his. Blair followed, sensing this was a moment for quiet thoughts and for showing everything he held inside. He wanted to hold Jim close and safe all through the night. He wished he could have been there for Jim growing up; but since that wasn’t possible, he would be here for him now. He knew they had a lot to discuss, a lot to talk about and work through. It wouldn’t be easy, but he had meant what he had said. They would do it together and that was all that mattered. Jim might feel that he wasn’t allowed to fail in any aspects of his life and that he always had to be the strong one, standing alone. But Blair had now become a man with a mission: he was determined to show his lover that their love was strong enough to see this through … together … and that Blair would always be there for Jim, like Jim had always been there for him. Blair would show the man he loved that love was unconditional and that he loved Jim just the way he was; weak and strong, success or failure, good and bad. That was what love was all about; what love was meant to be like.

He would stand by Jim’s side and guide him through this, however painful it would become for them both.

They would get through this…together. 

## The End


End file.
